


Shadows

by zeldadestry



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: 100_women, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:13:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldadestry/pseuds/zeldadestry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Gonna send me away now, B?”  Faith usually takes more pleasure in her taunts.  Today she sounds tired.  “Gonna keep pretending this doesn’t happen?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> prompt 15, "fear", for 100_women fanfic challenge

They met in high school. 

Buffy thought they were rivals for a long time, up until the night at a party when Faith dragged her outside, wrestled her to the ground, and kissed her breathless. 

Buffy is never happy to see her, not really, but she also knows that she’s not better off apart from her, either, and she answers the door every single time Faith knocks.

 

Buffy gets out of bed after they’re done, locks the bathroom door behind her, and takes her time in the shower.

Faith is still there, lounging naked on top of the bed, when Buffy returns to the bedroom in her robe, intending to get dressed. Their eyes lock but Buffy breaks first and turns away, towards the mirror. 

“Gonna send me away now, B?” Faith usually takes more pleasure in her taunts. Today she sounds tired. “Gonna keep pretending this doesn’t happen?” 

“I know it happened.” Buffy touches the abrasion on her collarbone and winces because it stings. “You always make sure of that.”

“Gonna kick me out of your bed, again, aren’t you? But, once I’m gone, I wonder how long it will be till you touch yourself, thinking of me. The way you moan, when I touch you, I bet you think of me all the time.” 

It only seems fair to be honest. “Yes, I think about you.”

“What?”

Buffy moves towards the window, closer to Faith, but still out of her reach. The sun’s almost finished setting and somehow the dim light feels like both a comfort and a threat. “I think about how your hair feels in my hands when you go down on me.” 

“You do?” 

“Yes.”

“I mean, of course you do.” 

“I think about the way you smile every time I reach for you first.” Buffy brushes her fingers over her own bare mouth. “But most of all I think about how soft your lips are when you kiss me.” 

“And I bet, even with everything you just said, you still think it would somehow be better if I was a good girl, like you.”

Buffy picks her wedding ring up off the bedside table and puts it on again. “I’m not good.”

“Yeah, you really are, but I don’t know why you bother.” Faith snickers. “You really think Riley would care about this? You think he would wanna do anything but watch? And where is he, anyway, all these nights he works late?”

“At the office.”

“Right. Is that what they call the massage parlor these days?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Faith takes hold of her wrist. “So why don’t you explain it to me?” 

Buffy stares at her, too startled to hide. “Why should I?” Faith shrugs. “Do you care?” Faith swallows, lets go of her hand. “Do you care?” 

“Used to dream every night of tying you up,” Faith says, low enough that Buffy has to concentrate to hear her. “Fucked a lot of other girls, you know that. I looked for them, collected them, girls like you, who look like you, who even act like you, rich and spoiled girls who think they’re too good for me. They wanted what I could give them. They begged for it, just like you do.” She shakes her head. “But I never let myself pretend that it means you care about me.”

Does it have to be a battle, leave them both bloody? Buffy sits down next to Faith, close enough that the outsides of their thighs press together. “I wouldn’t- if it didn’t- matter.” Faith shifts away from her, getting out of bed and collecting her clothing. Buffy watches her get dressed, wonders how long it will be until she’s watching her strip again instead. “You don’t believe me.” 

Faith doesn’t answer. She opens the door to the bedroom and Buffy follows her, down the stairs and into the front hall, where muddy combat boots rest on the welcome mat. After she’s pulled her shoes on, Faith bends over to tie the laces, making a show out of wiggling her ass and Buffy laughs. Faith stands back up. “I gotta go,” she says, resting her hand on the front door’s lever, like she can’t quite bring herself to push it down. 

Buffy presses in behind her, wraps her arms around Faith’s waist and settles her check against her shoulder. “I wish this could be easy,” she whispers. “I wish it didn’t hurt.”

“I don’t care that it does.”

“No?”

Faith turns in her arms so that they face each other and slips her hand inside Buffy’s robe so she can cup her bare breast, rub her thumb back and forth over its rise. Buffy closes her eyes and shivers. “Whatever happens, I just don’t care, not as long as I can touch you. But I know it’s not like that for you.”

Buffy can’t find the words and she can’t find the courage so all she can do is hold on tight.


End file.
